That’s a right whale out there,
breaching and rolling in the surf.
I’ve seen it three times already
but I watch it dive,
anticipate a fourth emergence
from the depths.
But not this time apparently
It’s moved on.
Like Laura moved on.
Like Chad and Jimmy and Marty moved on.
And like Chloe who died.
Not that the whale is dead
but sometimes with dead and moved on
the feeling is the same.
But wait.
What’s that.
Bubbles.
Water spiraling.
The right whale is about to put
on its show again.
Ah if only Laura and Chad and Jimmy
and Marty and Chloe…
but I’ll take the whale
if that’s what’s on offer.
It’s an endangered species.
In my life,
who isn’t?
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Sheepshead Review, Stand, Poetry Salzburg Review and Hollins Critic. Latest books, “Leaves On Pages” “Memory Outside The Head” and “Guest Of Myself” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Ellipsis, Blueline and International Poetry Review.
